


Lake Placid, My Ass

by Carry_On_Destiel



Category: Lake Placid (1999), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Betty White is everything, Cas is Hector Cyr, Crossover, Dean Being an Asshole, Dean as Sheriff Hank, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hannah as Paleontologist Kelly Scott, Lake Placid AU, M/M, Sam is Game Warden Jack Wells, Sexual Tension, So is Cas though, somewhat out of character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8561071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carry_On_Destiel/pseuds/Carry_On_Destiel
Summary: When someone dies violently on Dean's watch, the Sheriff is determined to bring the culprit to justice. Even if that culprit is a 30 foot crocodile with a taste for blood. With the help of his brother and a pair of scientists who want to study this odd phenomenon, Dean does his best to wreak vengeance on the beast who killed his friend.                                                                  Lake Placid/Destiel AU.





	1. Chapter 1

      The lilting song of a loon danced over the mirrored surface of the lake. The bird paddled calmly toward its nest, ripples spreading behind it in a V then fading softly into the water without a trace. The loon slowed to a stop, head swiveling nervously, sensing danger nearby. The bird raised its wings, ready to take flight when suddenly it was yanked under the surface with barely a splash. A single feather rose the surface, among radiating concentric waves.  
  
  
  
  
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Dean Winchester scowled over the gleaming water; wishing he'd worn his sunglasses and startling slightly as a dark figure rose from the black depths of the lake. Walt Lawson pulled off his scuba mask, chuckling at the Sheriff's reaction. Dean glared, setting his foot on the side of the boat, trying to look bored.  
  
"So they really pay you for this? Tagging beavers?" he asked the other man skeptically.  
  
Walt shrugged, shoulders weighted down by the oxygen tank strapped to his back, "Someone's gotta do it - lucky me."  
  
"Hm, if y' ask me what an animal does in the wild is his own business, s'long as he doesn't do it to man." Dean nodded succinctly, impressed with his own eloquence, "I think Mark Twain said that."  
  
Walt snorted, "Yeah, I think he didn't but since you've said it, I guess we're covered."  
  
With that final dry jab, the conservationist snapped his mask back into place and dove into the serene waters again. Dean watched apprehensively as Walt's neon flippers vanished into the inky deep, a shudder running through his body. Perhaps because he had watched Jaws at a formative age, Dean had always harbored a secret fear of deep water. He hated not knowing what might be lurking below, in that chilly blackness, waiting for an unsuspecting meal to swim by... Maybe living and working near Lake Black, Maine was not the wisest career choice he'd ever made.  
  
  
Walt reached the lake floor, visibility was so poor, he could barely see the hand in front of his face but he moved confidently along the algae coated lakebed, his destination firmly fixed in his memory. Something brushed past his leg. Walt twisted, aiming his light just in time to spot the ghostly silhouette of a snapping turtle vanishing into the weeds. His heart was pumping a little faster than usual, the calm he normally felt when he dove was evading him. Walt shook off the feeling as he reoriented himself and continued his task to locate and track the local beaver population.  
  
A crudely sawed - or gnawed - tree trunk rose from the muddy floor, Walt maneuvered around it smoothly, scaring a perch from its hiding place. A long twisted branch suddenly reared up, lunging toward the diver's mask. The experienced dived drew back as swiftly as one can underwater, following the long black snake's progress as it swirled away, its slender body undulating gracefully. Walt watched in fascination as the snake was joined by three others, the limbless reptiles seeming to examine the human with equal interest. A tremor coursed through Walt, those flat, staring black eyes were giving him the creeps... What was wrong with him? He loved snakes. Walt gave himself a mental slap, shaking off the lingering sensation of being watched and continued toward the looming beaver den in the gloomy water.  
  
As he pulled himself through a labyrinth of submerged logs, Walt's oxygen tank became snared on a branch. Calming himself with a deep breath, Walt shifted himself down to unhook the steel from its entanglement. With a grumble of relief he finally reached the concealed entrance to the beaver's home. Proceeding cautiously, Walt hoped a beaver would emerge before he needed to surface. Minutes ticked by. That itchy, nagging sense of being watched returned in full force and Walt looked around nervously. _Fuck it_ , he decided that the beaver tagging could wait for a less creepy day. Thrusting off the bottom of the muddy lake floor, he began to rise above the eerie skeletal branches of the countless trees elaborately arranged to form a domicile.  
  
Kicking upward toward the flickering sunshine gleaming through the greenish water, Walt felt the tension leaving his body. It was silly to be acting so spooked over nothing, after all. The flicker of movement below him caught his eye but before he could identify the source, Walt felt a powerful impact smashing into his legs and lower back. A scream of terror wrenched from his throat, bubbles emerging around the mouthpiece of his scuba gear. _Pain_. Blinding, knifelike pain assaulted his senses as he was propelled upward at an alarming speed. The force drove him toward the light, Walt could make out the blurry, distorted figure of Sheriff Dean standing in the Maine Fish  & Game boat just before he broke through the barrier between worlds.  
  
"Walt?" Dean leaped backward in shock as his friend exploded from the still water with a garbled shout, thrashing helplessly for a moment before disappearing under the surface, "Walt!? Hold on!"  
  
Scrambling to the prop, Dean fired up the boat with a roar, speeding to the roiling water where his friend had vanished as quickly as he had appeared.  
  
"Walt..?" Dean was trembling as he leaned over the side of the suddenly tiny, fragile boat, "Walt, c'mon buddy, where are you?"  
  
As if in response, a goggled head popped out of the water, "Dean!" Walt swam weakly with one arm, the other reaching up to catch the side of the boat, "Help.. help me.."  
  
Dean lunged for his friend's groping hand, clutching at the clammy wet fingers, "I gotcha man, I got you - its okay, you're gonna be just... fine..."   
  
As Dean pulled Walt aboard, he realized in stunned horror that he was too late to save his friend. Walt's legs - his entire lower body - were just.. gone. The Sheriff's gorge rose, threatening to make him ill.  
  
"Son of a bitch..."  
  
  
  
                              
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Hannah Scott quickly tamed a stray wisp of hair as her boss approached, ignoring the flutter of nerves at his somber expression. She pasted a bright smile on her face as he neared.  
  
"Inias, hey." Her voice sounded far too chirpy in her own ears and she cringed internally.  
  
"Hi, Hannah." Inias Campbell nodded in return, his tone cool, businesslike, "May I have a word with you in my office?"  
  
"Oh." Hannah's eyes widened in alarm, her imagination immediately spinning into overdrive, "Yes, of course.."  
  
Inias marched past the impressive display of extinct reptiles, with Hannah lagging a few paces back, trying to steady her nerves as they entered her superior's office, the door clicking closed behind her. Inias circled around his desk but didn't sit down, he seemed nervous now too.  
  
"So.." He drummed his fingers on the walnut desktop, "I uh, I had fun last night. Again."  
  
"Oh." Hannah's cheeks warmed, the blush rising in her annoyingly fair skin, "I - yes, me too."  
  
Inias rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Its just- We should.."  
  
Hannah winced, immediately filling in the blanks of his stumbling break up speech, "Ah let me guess: _'Its not you, it's me'_ is that it?"  
  
"No, Hannah, its not- I mean it is but.." Inias carded a hand through his hair, dejectedly, "You work for me, Hannah. I realize I should have considered that.. before... but I'm just not comfortable with us being.. _us."_  
  
"You seemed fine with it last night." Hannah hissed, her cheeks blazing with anger and humiliation.  
  
"I know, I thought I could handle it but mixing business with pleasure, along with someone else, is just too complicated."  
  
"Inias it doesn't have to affect our- wait, what was that last part?" Hannah's brain backtracked abruptly, latching onto Inias's rambling confession, "There's someone else?"  
  
"Er.." Inias looked like a deer caught in the headlights, brown eyes startled, "Yeah, uh I met - shit. Yes. There is."  
  
Hannah's heart dropped into her stomach, "I see."  
  
"Hannah.."  
  
Hannah was already backing out of the room, fumbling for the doorknob as she tried to fight the tears stinging the back of her eyes.  
  
"Hannah, wait. I really do need to talk work with you," Inias rushed around the desk, bumping his hip painfully on the corner as he did so, "There's some field work in Maine, I really think you need to take a look."  
  
Hannah froze, halfway out the door, "Field work." she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief, "In Maine."  
  
"Yes, I know it sounds unlikely, but-"  
  
"Oh no, that sounds perfectly reasonable, Inias." Hannah snapped icily, "Why wouldn't an expert paleontologist, unrivaled in her field be needed for a wild goose chase in _Maine?_ I swear to God, if you think you can just ship me off to the middle of fucking nowhere to avoid feeling a little bit awkward in the workplace then you truly are a cowardly sli-"  
  
"Hannah, stop." Inias cut her off, his tone sharp, "I'm your boss and if you want to keep your job, I'd advise you NOT to finish that sentence. We got a call about a tooth discovered in Maine - the local Game Wardens seem to think it looks... prehistoric. I would like you to offer your expert opinion on the matter."  
  
  
"Oh, well if the locals found a tooth, then what the hell, of course, sign me up Coach!" Hannah slammed the door behind herself as she stalked away.  
  
  
  
  
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Dean stared, unseeing, as the EMT's zipped Walt's remaining torso into a heavy black body bag, Walt's terrified expression frozen on his pale face. A truck door slammed, jolting Dean out of his trance. The Sheriff looked up as a tall, long haired man in an olive uniform approached at a run. Game Warden Sam Winchester, Dean's younger brother and Walt Lawson's colleague caught Dean's arm, shaking him slightly.  
  
"Dean! What happened, are you okay?" Sam watched the ambulance drive off. They didn't bother to fire up the lights and sirens - those were for the living.  
  
"Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean muttered the words at his feet, "I tried, I swear, I tried to save him. It just happened so fast, I couldn- I tried, Sam."  
  
"Dean, slow down, I don't - what happened here?" Sam gripped his elder brother's shoulders tightly, "What killed him, Dean?"  
  
"I - I don't know.." Dean racked his brain, trying to remember if he had seen anything in the thrashing, blood-tinged water below Walt when he emerged, "I couldn't see anything, just Walt."  
  
"Had to be a bear, right?" Sam frowned, trying to make sense of the tragic death of his friend, "There's nothing else big enough.."  
  
"Yeah.." Dean nodded slowly, dread heavy in his stomach. He tried to convince himself that a bear could have done what he had witnessed, "Yeah, must've been.."  
  
  
  
  
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The whirring of the helicopter blades couldn't quite drown the bitter voice in the back of Hannah's brain, telling her that this whole stupid trip was a waste of time. Stupid Inias. What kind of stupid name was _Inias_ anyway? Ugh. Hannah gripped her seat tightly as the swaying chopper began its rapid descent.  
  
Upon landing, she was immediately approached by an attractive green-eyed man in a Sheriff's uniform. Hannah's gaze skated over his tall frame approvingly, her irritation at being shuffled off to this godforsaken hellhole suddenly dissipating.  
  
"Dr. Scott?" He thrust a large, calloused hand toward her, "I'm Dean Winchester, I'll give you a lift to the hospital."  
  
Hannah accepted the firm grip shyly, "Of course, thank you very much Sheriff."   
  
The trip to the hospital was short and painfully silent. Hannah clasped her fingers in her lap, sneaking the occasional glance at her unfairly pretty chauffeur. He was steering robotically, moss green eyes distant and moody. Clearly he wasn't in the mood for idle chit-chat.  
  
The pair entered the hospital, taking a left down the stairwell and heading down a badly lit hallway. Dean paused in front of the door marked 'Morgue' in blue letters. Hannah stared at the word, uncomprehending.  
  
"Why are we going to the morgue?" She asked, her voice spiking with panic.  
  
Dean frowned at her, "This is generally where we keep the dead people."  
  
"Whoa! Wait, wait - who died?" Hannah yelped, the news catching her completely off-guard, "I'm here to examine a tooth, I don't know anything about any dead people!"  
  
"Ma'am - sorry, I mean Doctor Scott - what were you told when they sent you out here?" Dean was giving her a cool appraising look, which Hannah might have found exciting under different circumstances.  
  
"That ass- My .. _boss_ just told me that you found a big tooth that I had to examine. I wasn't given a whole lot of choice in the matter." Hannah admitted, her anger at Inias calming her nerves, "I just assumed he was getting rid of me after the break up."  
  
"Well ma'am - Doctor - I can bring the tooth out to you, if you would prefer?" Dean seemed torn between irritation and sympathy for her plight.  
  
"No, no - its fine, if there is a prehistoric beast on the loose, I should examine the wounds. I can handle it." Hannah pressed her trembling fingers together as Dean swung the door open for her, "Um, so. Since I seem to be out of the loop, I suppose I should ask: who is the deceased and how was he, or she, killed?"  
  
Dean focused sadly on the steel table in the center of the room, the white sheet draped over it covering the grisly remains of his friend, "His name was Walt Lawson, he was a Game Warden in this area. He was tagging the beaver population in Black Lake for research and conservation purposes when he was killed by... something."  
  
"Who discovered the body?" Hannah had slipped into her professional voice, trying to disconnect from the gory sight she was about to see.  
  
"I did," Dean replied woodenly, "Actually - I witnessed the ... attack. I was driving the boat when it happened."  
  
"Oh. I am so sorry Sheriff, I - I had no idea..." Hannah's facade slipped as she realized why the handsome officer seemed so closed off and shaken, "I will do.. everything I can to identify whatever killed him, so that it doesn't happen to anyone else."  
  
"I believe you, Doctor Scott." Dean offered a stiff, yet grateful smile, "The tooth is under the microscope on the counter there, if you would like to examine it. Or we can-"  
  
"The tooth! I'll look at the tooth first, if that's okay?" Hannah responded hurriedly, panic returning in full-force. She had never been good with cadavers, human or animal. Skeletons were a totally different ballgame, they were fascinating and, best of all, they were _clean_. It was the main reason she hadn't become a surgeon like her father.  
  
Dean Winchester nodded politely, not commenting on her obvious discomfort with the situation, and gestured toward the somewhat ancient microscope on the counter.

 The tooth was perched on top of, rather than inside, the petri dish as it was simply too large to fit inside. It was shockingly large, but certainly not prehistoric-dinosaur large. She examined the unique markers on the root - the tooth had been shed naturally, not broken off or yanked out. No mammals shed and regrew teeth in that manner and she could only think of one animal in existence that grew to this spectacular size-  
  
"I'd like to see the remains now, Sheriff." Hannah straightened from the scope, squaring her jaw resolutely, "I can't confidently I.D our uh - attacker - unless I examine the wounds."  
  
Dean gave her another appraising glance, "Its not a pretty sight ma'am. Have you ever seen a dead body before?"  
  
"I - yes, in med school. Cadavers. It was - I didn't,er.." Hannah swept her hair back nervously, "I wasn't really cut out for it, to be honest. But its okay, I can do this.. I can do it."  
  
Dean shrugged and grasped the end of the sheet, drawing it back slowly. Walt Lawson's face came into view, white and cold, terror still frozen on his face from rigor mortis. Hannah stared in revulsion as the sheet fell away, revealing the severed torso. The flesh was violently shredded by teeth nearly the size of Hannah's palm. The victim's skeleton had been twisted off at the sacral spine; his entire pelvis and legs were just .. missing. Bile rose in the back of Hannah's throat, a sickening wave of nausea bringing tears to her eyes. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the place where Walter's legs should be; couldn't stop picturing the moment when his body was torn in half. She could almost feel the teeth closing on her legs, sinking into her pale skin, blood gushing from the wounds just before the monstrous beast effortlessly ripped her fragile body in half.  
  
"Oh my..." The paleontologist suppressed the urge to run screaming from the room, "...uh you- you said you witnessed this attack, Sheriff? How long did it last, approximately?"  
  
"Only a few seconds," Dean spread his hands in a hopeless gesture, "It was over before I knew what was happening."  
  
"Was he - dead at the time of the attack?" Hannah focused her attention on Dean's face, his pain effectively distracting her from the roiling in her gut.  
  
Dean's fingers curled into fists and he stared unseeingly ahead, "No, he wasn't. He - Walt - begged me for help. I couldn't help him."  
  
"I see." Hannah glanced at the corpse on the steel table again and without warning her stomach rebelled, "And where can I throw up?"  
  
Dean pointed at the deep industrial sink near the door and Hannah lurched across the room, just in time to splatter half-digested chicken carbonara all over the shiny aluminum basin.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

     Dean slid his tinted aviators over his eyes as he exited the dilapidated general store, holding the door for the pretty, dark haired scientist. She was carrying a bag containing sneakers, socks and copious amounts of bug repellent. It seemed as though she had been flown out to this lonely town without warning - or time to pack appropriately. He felt bad for her, but he was also irritated by her presence. He didn't need some big shot scientist person taking over his investigation - he didn't know _what_ had killed Walt, but he knew damn well he was gonna kill it right back. And he didn't need to know the exact species and genus in Latin to do it, thank you very much.  
  
"Well, as you can see, Doctor, there's really not much to it. The lake is about twenty-seven miles northwest of Indigo," Dean nodded vaguely in the direction of Black Lake, "Its pretty remote. Nobody lives within twenty-five miles, 'cept an old couple who live right on the lake. Teenagers drive out there now and then, to throw parties but no one has gone missing. No one reported seeing any dinosaurs either."   
  
Hannah raised a brow at the snide comment but let it pass, "Have you spoken to the old couple?"  
  
"Not yet," _I was a little busy playing babysitter,_ Dean thought irritably.  
  
"What kind of back up do we have out there?" Hannah inquired, tossing her bags into Dean's work vehicle rather haphazardly as she tugged off her beige high heels. High heels. In Maine.  
  
Dean forced himself not to snarl, "We?"  
  
Now Hannah looked mildly offended, "Yes, _we._ " she repeated coolly, "Problem?"  
  
"No, _ma'am._ " Dean deliberately omitted the honorific from the paleontologist's title, "I'm just a little unclear as to why the Museum of Natural History would send someone here."  
  
"You got something against museums?" Hannah sniped, cheeks flushing with anger.  
  
"No," Dean sighed, feeling foolish for being so petty, "Of course I don-"  
  
"Ever been _in_ one?" Hannah interrupted, voice dripping with smug superiority.  
  
Dean glared at her, all sympathy vanishing at the condescending assumption. Instead of dignifying her with a response, he reached into the truck and lifted a heavy rifle from the window rack. Hannah's smirk evaporated, her eyes wide with alarm.  
  
"What is _that?"_ She demanded.  
  
"This beauty is a .338 Winchester Magnum," Dean cracked open the stock, assuring himself the chamber was empty, "Whatever's out there... One shot with this an' it won't be anymore."  
  
"And you keep that around for what, to fend off Russia?" Hannah snarked, regaining her charming personality a little too quickly for Dean's taste.  
  
"Y'know, you're sort of a rude person." Dean informed her matter-of-factly, replacing the rifle on its custom padded brackets.  
  
A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face, "Look, its just that-" she broke off abruptly, her hand swinging up as a haze of foul-smelling mist rained over the pair.  
  
"Ugh, mosquitoes! I hate mosquitoes!" Hannah was armed with a neon green can of aerosol bug spray, "I have thing about mosquitoes."  
  
Dean swallowed a groan, backing away from the pungent fog just as a green Jeep whipped around the corner, parking next to his truck in a plume of dust. Sam Winchester hopped out of the Jeep and strode over, his hair swinging ridiculously, already past his jaw. Dean eyed his brother's beloved locks venomously; what he wouldn't give to hack it all off.. Dean heard a sound that could only be described as a whimper next to him and turned back to Hannah. The paleontologist's jaw was slack, her gaze fixed on Sam's tall, khaki-clad frame. Dean smirked, torn between being amused by the Doctor's reaction or concerned by it. He shrugged and decided to go with amused - maybe she would latch on to Sammy and leave him the hell alone now.  
  
"Dean, we set?" Sam asked briskly, eager to be on the road.   
  
"Yeah, we're good to go," he inclined his head slightly in Hannah's direction, "So a museum in New York decided to send us some back up. This is Doctor Hannah Scott, Professor of Paleontology at the Museum of Natural History." Dean gestured at his brother with a dramatic flourish, "Doctor Scott, this is my baby brother, Sammy Winchester."  
  
Sam did a double take, noticing Hannah and glaring at Dean at the same time. He extended a hand, smiling awkwardly, "Uh its just Sam, actually. Hi, its nice to meet you Doctor-"  
  
"Hannah!" Hannah blurted, her cheeks coloring slightly, "Just Hannah, is fine."  
  
"Oh. Okay then... Hannah." Sam was still holding Hannah's slender fingers in his own massive paw, "So. The museum sent you? Really?"  
  
"Don't tell me, you hate museums too?" She asked, but her tone was light and teasing; flirtatious even, "I'm here to offer my expert opinion on the evidence found at the scene."  
  
"Oh, no that's not what I meant at all!" Sam looked confused by her response, "I'm the one who called you guys, but I was just looking for some information, I had no idea they would send someone all the way out  _here."_  
  
"Well then I guess I have _you_ to thank for getting me dropped into the first ten minutes of a horror movie." Hannah smiled coyly, still laying on the charm, "If I get eaten, I'm blaming you."  
  
Sam shifted a little closer, looming over her petite frame, "I promise I won't let that happen, Doctor Scott."  
  
Hannah stared up at him, swallowing visibly, clearly lost for words - oh god, were they going to kiss already? Dean cleared his throat loudly and the pair leaped apart, blushing furiously.  
  
"Okay then, introductions made - can we get a move on?"  
  
  
  
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       The charming little farmhouse overlooked the sprawling mirror-like lake, looking like something out of a catalogue. Mrs. Doloros Bickerman completed the picture-perfect scene; a sweet little old lady, white hair flawlessly coiffed, dressed in a floral blouse with a blue apron tied over it. To make this scene even more idyllic, the elderly lady was carrying a tray of cookies and sweet iced tea.   
  
"Hello ma'am, we were hoping we could speak to you and your husband," Dean surreptitiously snagged a cookie off the tray, "There's been an incident on the lake that you may be able to help us with."  
  
Mrs. Bickerman looked innocently surprised, "Oh no, my husband passed away almost two years ago."  
  
Dean frowned, quickly racking his brain, "My department doesn't have any record of his death, ma'am."  
  
"Oh, well excuse me, I didn't realize you kept such a close eye on the dead, _Officer."_ Her sweet demeanor was gone, replaced with an almost acidic sneer.  
  
"What was the cause of your husband's death, Mrs. Bickerman?" Hannah cut in, before Dean could offer a scathing retort, her voice concerned, eyes radiating sympathy. Yeah, it was probably better to let her do this part, Dean decided as he stole a second cookie.  
  
"We don't mean to invade your privacy ma'am," Sam offered soothingly, when Mrs. Bickerman remained silent, "Its just- was he ill or-"  
  
"Swallowed?" Dean interrupted, through a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. Sam and Hannah glared daggers at him and Dean raised his hands in a supplicant reply.  
  
"Sheriff!" Hannah reprimanded him, astounded, "Mrs.. Doloros. What the Sheriff is trying to say-" she shot another angry glance at Dean, "-is that someone was fatally attacked here yesterday, by some type of animal. So if you could just tell us how your husband died-"  
  
"Oh yes, I killed him!" Doloros replied brightly.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes heaven-ward as both Sam and Hannah turned to him, startled silent by the chirpy confession, "You killed him?"  
  
"Oh yes." Mrs Bickerman nodded happily, crumbling up a cookie to toss to the ducks.  
  
"And how _exactly_ did you accomplish this, ma'am?" Dean continued, pulling a pen and notepad from his uniform with a sigh of resignation.  
  
"Well, he was very ill you know, and he refused to go see the doctor," Mrs. Bickerman began reciting her tale cheerfully, "I think he must've had Alzheimer's - he would be coherent one day and incoherent the next... Well, one coherent day he asked me to end his suffering. I wouldn't do it but he just kept insisting and _insisting_ until one day I finally just gave in." She shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, "I hit him over the head with a skillet and then- then I buried him under the bulkhead."  
  
Dean was jotting down the details, fully intending to follow up on this crazy woman's report as soon as he'd solved his current case, "Ma'am, you realize that you're insane, right?"  
  
Mrs Bickerman looked affronted, "You can dig him up if you don't believe me!"  
  
  
  
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Hannah sat primly in the front of the boat as Dean steered them toward the opposite bank, the prow slicing through the glossy black water with ease. Dean kept his eyes fixed on his destination, studiously avoiding looking directly at the water. As long as he didn't look at it, he could tell himself it was okay - there was no gargantuan creature with massive, dagger-like teeth drifting patiently below their puny little boat.  
  
"What's up with this lake?" Hannah's voice broke through his dark musing, "Its always so.. Black. There's no waves or anything."  
  
"They wanted to name it Lake Placid," Dean informed her, eyes stubbornly averted, "But that name was already taken."  
  
"Gee, that's a shame." Hannah replied, sarcastically. Sam snickered as though it was the greatest burn he'd ever heard, Dean rolled his eyes but ignored them.  
  
"I sent Meg and Victor ahead with the tents, everything should be sent up by the time we reach camp." Dean commented, offhandedly as he angled the nose toward the wooden dock ahead of them.  
  
"What? Tents, we're staying in _tents?"_   Hannah repeated, stunned.  
  
"I told you we'll be camping for two days."  
  
"Yeah 'camping'!" she responded, shrilly, "I thought you meant the Holiday Inn, nobody said anything about _tents!_ Will there be toilets?"  
  
Dean wasn't listening, he was distracted by a strangely shaped branch bobbing next to the boat. Filled with a vague sense of dread, Dean forced himself to lean over the edge, grasping the branch and hauling it out of the water with effort. As he pulled it up to shoulder height, he realized it was not a branch at all - instead he was staring into the cloudy eyes of an enormous bull moose.  
  
Dean recoiled in horror, shoving the gruesome weight away instinctively. His own shout was drowned as the severed head landed directly in Hannah's lap. She bolted upright with a blood-curdling shriek and the weighty skull hit the floor with a thud. Hannah whirled on Dean, aiming a slap at his face, which he barely managed to block.  
  
"You threw it at me!" She screeched, turning to Sam for back up, "You saw it!"  
  
"It fell!" Dean yelled back defensively.  
  
Sam stepped forward, torn between defending his brother and playing the hero, "Well, I don-"  
  
"He threw it at me!" She snapped accusingly, swatting angrily at Dean's head again.  
  
"Stop hitting me _Ma'am!"_ Dean growled angrily, his arm bruised from her surprisingly bony palm.  
  
"Do _not_ call me Ma'am!" Hannah hissed, "And don't throw _heads_ at me!"  
  
"Fine! Won't happen again, _jeez_." Dean edged away warily, in case Hannah tried to take another swing. He turned his attention to the partial-carcass in his pristine boat, "That... That's big."

Sam nodded, eyes huge with fear, "It looks like its been torn off."  
  
"Like Walt." Dean agreed, nodding slowly.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" Sam asked incredulously. A long silence stretched out between the three occupants as the boat drifted serenely on the still water.


	3. Chapter 3

  Hannah stood on the tiny sand bar, frowning at the ominously peaceful water stretching out toward the setting sun. Sam approached her cautiously, clearing his throat.  
  
"Hey," He spoke softly, wincing as she jolted violently, "Sorry, I'm sorry. Are you hungry?"  
  
"How big do bears get?" Hannah demanded, seemingly not hearing his query.  
  
"Not big enough to do _that_ ," Sam admitted, "Not in the water, at least. On land.. _maybe."_  
  
"And you're sure Walt didn't get tangled in the outboard somehow?" She asked, desperately seeking a rational, non-terrifying answer to the mystery.  
  
"Dean says he's sure." Sam responded solemnly.  
  
Hannah nodded slowly, turning back to gaze over the water. She let out a slow sigh, shoulders relaxing slightly, "It really is beautiful, isn't it?"  
  
Sam smiled, "Never been to Maine before?"  
  
"I was told they discriminate against people with hygiene." She quipped, eyeing Sam's bearded jaw, "And here I thought they were _kidding._ "  
  
Sam chuckled, running a hand through his long brown hair ruefully, "Why are you here?"  
  
"I told you-" she began, surprise coloring her skin with a blush that Sam was quickly becoming enamored with.  
  
"The Museum of Natural History doesn't send _investigators_ to-" Sam interrupted, smoothly.  
  
"How would _you_ know what-"  
  
"And even if they _did,_ I doubt he or she would have such a problem with _tents_." Sam concluded, titling his head curiously, "So, why are you _really_ here?"  
  
"So I don't like tents, wha-"  
  
"You don't like tents, mosquitoes-"  
  
"Nobody likes mosquitoes!"  
  
"And look at your fingernails. You have as much business being here as Carrie Bradshaw." Sam finished, his grin now outright mocking, "So cut the crap, Doctor Scott. What are you doing out here?"  
  
"I was _sent-"_  
  
"To examine a _tooth_. You did that already."  
  
Hannah crossed her arms angrily, glaring up into Sam's infuriating hazel eyes, "...I _am_ a paleontologist." She insisted, grudgingly, "And I was dating - well, sleeping with - my boss. Who also happened to be sleeping with my coworker, who happens to be my _friend_." Hannah gritted her teeth, remembering the moment she realized that the other woman was Hester, her best friend since grad school, "So.. for the sake of _comfort_ \- their comfort, mind you - I was shipped off to Maine." She looked down at her now-muddy sneakers, "And I don't feel like going back yet, okay?"  
  
Sam assessed her thoughtfully, "Well. Why stay out here? You could have stayed at the hotel-"  
  
"Oh my god, why do you care?" she snapped finally, "I've come, I'm here and I'm staying! Unless there are ticks. I've got a thing about ticks."  
  
Sam laughed for real then, opening his mouth to reply but was drowned out by the sudden thrum of a helicopter descending rapidly above them. Sam and Hannah backed away, arms raised defensively against the sudden mist hurled at them by the whirring blades.  
  
"Oh my god, is that...?" Hannah gaped at the dark-haired man in the pilot's seat, "Oh my god, it _is!_ _"_  
  
"Who?" Sam demanded, loudly over the roar of the engine just as Dean rushed over to join them, followed closely by Victor Henriksen, Sam's newest recruit and Meg Masters, a pretty but devious Deputy Sheriff.  
  
"Castiel Cyr!" Hannah shouted, "He's this rich, kooky Mythology professor. He's done some work with our museum - he also has a fondness for trekking around the world to swim with .... crocodiles..." Hannah trailed off, realization striking.  
  
"He swims with what now?" Dean asks, hoping he misheard.  
  
"Crocodiles." Hannah confirmed, "He's a world-renowned expert on crocodiles. And if he's here then.." She shot them both a meaningful glance, "He must think you've got one."  
  
Sam and Dean exchanged a disbelieving glance.  
  
"In Maine?" Dean asked blandly, covering the sudden spike of fear in his gut with sarcasm.  
  
Hannah understood his disbelief, it was exactly what she had been feeling from the second she looked at that tooth in the morgue. She hadn't been able to bring herself to voice her suspicions out loud, for fear of being looked at exactly how Dean was looking at Dr. Cyr right now.  
  
"There have been sightings as far north as Virginia," She told the Winchesters cautiously, "It may not be outside the realm of possibility."  
  
Sam's brow furrowed doubtfully but he did not contest her statement. Dean on the other hand was glowering obstinately at the helicopter as it dropped almost delicately into the water alongside the dock, engine cutting off, leaving the blades to spin themselves to a grudging stop. The chopper door swung open with a bang and Dr. Castiel Cyr practically exploded out of the cockpit onto the rickety dock. He whipped off his sunglasses dramatically as he spotted Hannah Scott.  
  
"You beat me!" his expression was one of comic indignation, "You beat me!"  
  
He turned to the others gathered on shore, pointing, "I need two of you to unpack my gear. You." He indicated Sam, then turned to Dean, looking him over with interest, "Not you." he pointed again, seemingly at random, "And you." Victor Henriksen was also elected for the task. Sam and Victor exchanged a surprised glance. Victor shrugged and headed over to the helicopter with a weary sigh.  
  
"Professor-" Hannah tried to speak but was trampled by the energetic arrival's continued babbling.  
  
"Who do we have from Fish  & Game?"  
  
Sam spoke up firmly, "Me."  
  
Dean turned to Hannah, exasperation written all over his face, "Who is this man?"  
  
Castiel bounded up to the trio, his dark hair a wild mess, "I could see the algae blooms from the air, how long has this lake been stagnant?" he thrust a hand toward Dean, "Castiel Cyr, the forest is green and so are your eyes."  
  
Dean was flabbergasted, he looked again to Hannah, this time almost pleading, "Who _is_ he?"  
  
"Castiel Cyr," Castiel answered Dean's question bluntly, "I'll need to study any and all topographic maps of the area and will someone please set up my tent? I need a drink." Castiel rattled off his requests in rapid succession, practically vibrating on the spot. Dean wondered if the man was on something and whether he had the authority to write a ticket for flying under the influence. He'd have to check the books.  
  
"Excuse me, _sir_ , you've just got here and you think you can start barking orders?" Dean demanded, stepping into the other man's space, noticing as he did that Castiel's eyes were a shockingly bright shade of blue, "Doctor Scott, who the hell IS this guy?"  
  
"Castiel Cyr, I've said it twice, let me know when it sinks in, mmkay?" he turned to Hannah again, "Have you seen it?" His voice was husky with excitement, deep and rough. Dean felt a little shudder course through him.  
  
"Mister Cy-" Dean tried to interrupt, desperate to make sense of the current situation that he was quickly losing control of - unfortunately, no one was listening to him.  
  
"No," Hannah replied quickly, "Its not - it can't be a crocodile, can it? We're too far north."  
  
"They've been migrating farther north every year, Hannah! This lake connects directly to the ocea-"  
  
"Mister Cyr!" Dean snapped, his patience evaporating, "What-?"  
  
"C'mon, hurry up guys, we're losing the light!" Castiel crowed, arms poised to dash off like Wily Coyote, "Why is the rent-a-cop snarling?"  
  
Dean clenched his fists furiously, willing himself not to sock the bloviating weirdo in the teeth as Hannah hurriedly dragged the newcomer aside, whispering loudly.  
  
"Doctor Cyr, that _rent-a-cop_ has no sense of humor, and since _he's_ the one who decides whether you get to play, I suggest you be nice. Just... try not to be your obnoxious self, okay?" She looked nervously at Dean, who was glaring at her - he had an _excellent_ sense of humor, whether the nerds appreciated it or not.  
  
Castiel tilted his head, offended by the comment, "That hurt my feelings, Hannah."  
  
Sam appeared, "Hey, if we're going on the water, we better go now."  
  
  
  
                             
  
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Sam sat in the canoe behind Professor Cyr, paddling sedately, while the doctor fiddled with an expensive-looking radar monitor. Dean paddled ahead, Hannah perched in front of him; she looked rather spooked to be on the water again. Dean didn't exactly blame her for that. Finally the two canoes slowed to a gentle stop, floating alongside each other. Dean glared at Castiel's distracted profile.  
  
Cas looked up from the device suddenly, "If he's down there, I'll find him," He turned back towards Sam, "Did she tell you we had sex?"  
  
Hannah gasped, mortified, "I _never_ had sex with you!"  
  
Castiel grinned disarmingly, "Oh I know, I just thought you might have said so- you're allowed to boast. I _am_ quite a catch, after all." he gave Hannah a thoughtful glance, "You're looking thin, by the way, I can practically see your ribcage."  
  
He went back to his fiddling while Hannah sat crimson-faced, mumbling angrily at the strange professor's back. Dean decided that he'd had enough.  
  
"Excuse me _Professor,_ I don't mean to be rude," he began, every syllable dripping with condescension, "But how exactly does someone come to the conclusion that there is a crocodile living in New England?"  
  
Castiel's head snapped up, a manic gleam in his eye, "They have saltwater glands, you know, that means they can cross oceans - it was only a matter of time-"  
  
"How would he survive the winter?" Dean pressed, curiosity piqued.  
  
"As long as his nostrils don't freeze, he lives." Castiel turned to Hannah, who was still very pink, "Am I foolish to explain things to him? He had such trouble with my name.."  
  
"Hey!" Dean protested just as Hannah snapped, "Cas!"  
  
Castiel ignored them, "Is this where it happened?"  
  
Dean glanced around, recognizing the area where Walt had taken his final breaths, "Yeah. Around here."  
  
Castiel brightened, looking into the water excitedly, "If he's fed here before he may return. Crocs like to stay near the food source."  
  
Dean rankled at the man's cavalier attitude - the 'food source' in question had been a good man and a good friend. He opened his mouth to tell Castiel to fuck off but Hannah was already speaking.  
  
"They tend to feed at night, Cas, it would be asleep now."  
  
"Nuh-uh," Castiel retorted childishly, "Its almost sun down, and he's struck during the day before, isn't that right Sheriff?" Dean glared as the eccentric millionaire continued digging a grave with his tongue, "You know Sheriff, sometimes when our loved ones tell us these things, it doesn't really sink in so sometimes it helps to hear it from a total stranger: You're hot."  
  
Dean gaped at the man, stunned silent by the unexpected compliment. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment and Dean turned away quickly before his freckles gave him away. As he waited for the warmth to leave his face he looked out over the normally calm water, noticing with jolt of fear that it was no longer calm. A broad stretch of water was agitating strangely, spitting up droplets as dozens of small fish launched themselves out of the water as if they wanted to fly. Dean was pointing before he could find his voice.  
  
"There. There! What is that?" He asked, fearfully.  
  
Sam sat up looking at the roiling water with interest, "White perch, something's got them spooked.."  
  
"Maybe they're feeding?" Hannah suggested weakly.  
  
"Doesn't look like it.." Sam said slowly, "Its like they're trying to... escape."  
  
"Like they're scared." Dean confirmed, his own hands shaking as he gripped his paddle, wishing it were a gun.  
  
Without warning the front of his canoe snapped downward, launching Dean into the air and he was hurtling straight into the frigid water with a strangled yell. As Dean exploded into the lake in a swirl of bubbles and algae and cumbersome clothing, he realized that Hannah must have gone overboard as well. The sheriff held his breath, twisting underwater until he saw flaming sunlight sparkling above him and kicked out desperately, terror settling in his bones. He was going to die like Walt, torn to pieces in the cold water, screaming for help while the people he cared about tried helplessly to pull his wounded body aboard. Dean didn't want Sam to see him like that... Dean's head broke through the surface and he immediately heard his brother's voice, urging him onward.  
  
"Dean! C'mon Dean, swim! Get on the canoe quick!"  
  
Castiel was also yelling, guiding Hannah toward the capsized canoe as she fought her way through a mess of slimy weeds, "C'mon Hannah, you got this! Just climb on the boat! If you don't hurry you won't be able to have sex with me!"  
  
Despite the sheer terror clawing at Dean's lungs he felt himself grinning at the quirky scientist's bizarre motivational speech. Finally his hand slammed into the wooden siding and he clawed his way on top of the overturned canoe. Hannah was a couple feet away, struggling with the clinging branches that had tangled in her borrowed sweater.  
  
"C'mere Hannah, I got you," the words felt like hot knives in Dean's throat, a mocking repeat of the assurance he had offered Walt, not knowing he had already failed. But this was different - he could see Hannah's legs kicking out behind her, fully intact, if she could just reach the boat, he could save her... "Hurry up Hannah, don't give up, you can do this."  
  
Her small pale fingers slapped into his waiting palm and he pulled with all his might, dragging her slender figure onto the precarious safety of their inverted canoe. She collapsed, shaking, into his arms. Dean let out a groan of relief while Sam quickly paddled toward them, still shouting in alarm, but Dean couldn't seem to understand anything he was saying.  
  
Hannah coughed, shoulders heaving as she spit out lake water, "What the hell just happened?"


	4. Chapter 4

        Still dripping wet and shivering uncontrollably, Hannah clutched her cell phone to her ear, perched on top of Sam's Jeep to get a signal. The man on the other line was a douchbag of collosal proportions. If he called her 'sweetheart' one more time, Hannah was going to reach through the speaker and shove a pinecone up his ass.  
  
"No, none of us actually _saw_ anything but-" Hannah gritted her teeth as her interrupted yet again, "Yes, I realize that _sir_ but _something_ flipped our boat and I doubt very much that it was a mink!"  
  
Dean stood by, observing the single-sided exchange. He sympathized with Hannah's clear frustration, he hated dealing with arrogant bureaucratic dicks as much as anyone. Castiel approached, dressed in dry clothes that looked like they were straight out of a cartoon hunting and fishing magazine - a plaid shirt covered by a khaki vest with far too many pockets and a pair of puke-green cargo shorts with even _more_ pockets, each one appeared to be stuffed bursting. Dean took in his odd outfit at a glance, rolling his eyes at the utter ridiculousness of it. Castiel seemed oblivious to the Sheriff's disdain, his teeth showing in a gummy grin as he planted himself right in Dean's personal space.  
  
"What's going on up there?" He nodded at Hannah, pacing the short space anxiously as she tried to reason with the unknown voice.  
  
"They don't believe her," Dean told Cas dully, "I'm not sure if _I_ even believe it yet."  
  
"Oh thank you, yeah, its _so_ nice to know my tax dollars are finding their way to assholes like you!" Hannah snarled into her phone, stabbing the 'End' button with unnecessary venom, "Fucker."  
  
Castiel beamed, "Such a flirt."  
  
Hannah rolled her eyes and smiled grudgingly as she slid off the Jeep, "U.S Wildlife won't send anyone without 'confirmation'. Dicks."  
  
Sam appeared, shoving his own phone into his pocket, "Same thing from Fish & Game."  
  
" _Something's_ in that water." Hannah glanced nervously at the darkening shoreline, "Something big."  
  
Sam shrugged, "We know that, but until one of us has seen it, we won't be convincing anyone else."  
  
A twig snapped and all four companions leaped out of the boots, whirling to find Deputy Masters approaching carefully. She nodded at the others and caught Dean's eye, "Sheriff, there's something you need to see."  
  
Dean frowned, as he followed the deputy past the cluster of tents to mossy little clearing not far from the water. Meg stopped abruptly, pointing at the ground, face screwed up in distaste. Laying in a squirming cluster of slimy white maggots was a disembodied human toe.  
  
"Oh ew!" Hannah yelped, leaping behind Sam's back as though the worms could take flight, "Eurgh! Worms! I got a thing about worms!"

Dean stared, repulsed by the sight but determined not to let it show while the others were watching. The last thing he needed to do was lose his lunch in front of Professor Nutjob. So Dean crouched down to get a closer look, shooting a glare at Cas as he did the same.  
  
"Well uh, its definitely human," Dean heard himself saying, "Probably male, based on the size."  
  
Castiel dug a large pair of tweezers out of his many pockets and plucked the metatarsal in question up casually. Squinting his brilliant blue eyes, the professor considered the evidence closely, even sniffing at the toe. Dean gagged slightly.  
  
"Hm some decomposition, smells slightly acidic - definitely been swallowed." Cas held out the offending body part delicately, "Was this the man who was killed, Sheriff?"  
  
Dean felt a bizarre urge to laugh at the strange doctor but kept his tone cool as he replied, "I'm afraid I didn't know him _quite_ that well."  
  
Cas cocked an eyebrow, the expression transforming the other man's face into something intense, almost dominating - and sort of... _sexy_ \- then the moment passed and Cas bounced to his feet, "Well, its definitely a croc. They're a keystone species."  
  
"A keystone what?" Dean demanded, feeling somewhat flustered, his belly fluttering nervously.  
  
"Species." Castiel repeated impatiently, "Keystones affect the entire ecosystem, that explains all the worms - and probably those fish earlier too." He thrust the toe into Dean's hand with flourish, "Bury your friend, Sheriff."  
  
Dean was left standing there, nonplussed, holding the disgusting portion of human remains as Castiel pranced off to his extravagant tent and disappeared inside.  
  
  
  
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Sam Winchester slipped out of his tent into the cool night air. Dark had fallen earlier than he had expected tonight, or maybe it just seemed darker out here - away from all of the electronics and streetlights. But all those stories about how quiet it was out in the woods at night? Total myth. The frogs were kicking up a hell of a racket, along with an orchestra of crickets singing in the darkness. There were other noises as well, distant howling from deeper in the woods; but the worst were the unsettling splashes coming from the nearby lake. Logically, Sam knew that it was probably just jack fish leaping out of the water as they fed but each wet gurgle still made him uneasy.  
  
As the game warden approached the crackling campfire encircled by tents, Sam spotted Hannah, swathed in a blanket. She was engrossed in her work, clicking buttons on a small black device which was adding its own odd chirruping squeaks to the nightly symphony. She looked beautiful, lip caught between her teeth as she made tiny adjustments to the audio clip.  
  
"Hey," he announced his presence as he pulled up the nearest folding chair, "What y' got there?"  
  
"Jesus!" She looked up, wide eyed with surprise, "You know, you are way too quiet for such a huge person."  
  
Sam grinned, "Oh you think I'm huge, do you?"  
  
Hannah licked her lips and looked away, blush visible despite the red glow of the fire, "Uh this- this is a juvenile croc recording. The sound of infants in distress should bring in an adult - if its out there."  
  
"Wouldn't an adult male try to kill the young ones?" Sam asked, shifting his chair closer.  
  
Hannah raised an eyebrow, impressed, "More than likely. I'm surprised, Warden."  
  
"Hey, I watch Animal Planet." Sam winked roguishly, earning himself a giggle, "So if there is a croc out there then how come everyone says its not possible?"  
  
She scoffed, a distinctly unladylike sound, "Pencil pushing morons, all they do is consult their little indigenous species charts and leave it at that - they wouldn't understand rogue migration or the immense capacity for adaptation that these animals possess."  
  
"Well if it really _is_ a crocodile then maybe sitting with your back to the water while fiddling with that machine isn't the wisest decision." Sam advised her wryly.  
  
Hannah tried to glare but she shot a nervous glance at the water behind her all the same, "Its fine, Sam, its not like I'm standing right on shore."  
  
Despite her stubborn words, she lifted her chair and shuffled around until she was sitting alongside Sam, facing the lake. Silver-white moonlight shimmered lazily on the glassy black water. Sam stole a glance at the paleontologist, catching her just as her gaze skittered away from his face. They both chuckled softly then Hannah stood, reluctantly.  
  
"I should um," She stumbled on a root, backing toward the little two-man tent she was sharing with Meg Masters, "I should be getting to bed. Early morning and all."  
  
  
  
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Dean rolled over in his sleeping bag, back aching already. He was too damn old to be sleeping on the ground. The sheriff sat up with a grumble, glaring through the flimsy mesh flap that served as his door. Castiel's tent was clearly visible, lit up like a Christmas display, techno music blasting so loudly it was vibrating his tent poles. He could make out several silhouettes inside, they appeared to be dancing. Dean pushed himself to his feet and located his boots; he was going to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. Marching out of his tent, Dean nearly crashed headlong into Victor Rogers who was carrying a shovel.  
  
"Whoa, sorry Vic- what's with the shovel?"  
  
Victor shrugged, looking a bit guilty, "The professor guy paid me five hundred bucks to dig a big hole."  
  
Dean opened his mouth to argue, to express how utterly idiotic that was, all that came out was a pained sigh, "Whatever man, just.. not where we walk, okay?"  
  
Tearing his way into the cavernous tent, Dean stormed inside then froze dead in his tracks. Castiel was dancing; his ridiculous vest was off, as was the overlarge plaid shirt leaving the mythology professor in just a simple white t-shirt and cargo shorts. Dean swallowed hard, averting his eyes so he wouldn't stare at the sliver of skin where Cas' shirt had ridden up... Shaking his head, Dean finally realized that he and Castiel were not alone. Several of his rookie deputies were standing next to what appeared to be a state-of-the-art generator operated sound system, which was thumping out rhythmic electronic dance music. Dean eyed the brightly colored cocktails in their hands enviously - he could really use a drink right now.   
  
"We are here on official business - this is _not a party."_ Dean snarled, glaring around the festive pavilion. The young officers blanched as they spotted Dean glowering; ditching their drinks most of the celebrating occupants hurried from the tent without a word leaving Dean alone with Cas.  
  
"Why Deputy Masters," Dean heard Castiel's gravelly voice, even over the pounding beat of the music, "You are a very beautiful woman..."  
  
Followed by a flirtatious, feminine voice that Dean knew all too well, "Thank you for noticing, Professor.."  
  
Dean turned reluctantly to see something that made his heart drop into his stomach. Twirling seductively, her uniform shirt unbuttoned to reveal a lacy black bra and generous cleavage, Meg Masters was grinding against Cas' lap while the older man leaned in close to speak right into her ear. Dean felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut, his vision flickered red and it was all he could do to stop himself from hurling Meg out the door. Dean clenched his fists, digging his nails painfully into the meat of his palms, trying to calm his racing heart. A sudden lull in the music left him trapped, listening to the rest of the giggly duo's conversation.  
  
"You know, Miss Masters, being a law enforcement officer is a very sexy job." Cas was murmuring, not so quietly, "Dangerous too you know - especially now."  
  
"Oh is that so?" Meg asked, teasingly, practically straddling Cas' lap at this point. Dean told himself to stop staring like a creep. He should just walk away, it was none of his damn business who Cas chose to hook up with, not that he even cared. Cuz he totally didn't. Its just that it was Meg, she was his most senior deputy and a friend; didn't that mean he should look out for her?  
  
"It would be a damn shame if someone as gorgeous as you were to die without an heir to perpetuate your exquisite gene pool," Cas went on, "I'd be happy to help you rectify that, if you'd like."  
  
Okay, scientific dirty talk was creepy as fuck and Dean absolutely was not getting turned on by it, at all. Dean almost punched the power button on the sound system, plunging the tent into abrupt silence. Castiel and Meg looked up, drunkenly pleased to see Dean.  
  
"Party's over." Dean gritted, throwing Meg's shirt at her, "Get back to your tent, Meg. We'll talk about your lack of professionalism on the job tomorrow."  
  
"Oh c'mon, lighten up Sheriff, have a drink!" Cas slurred, swaying into Dean's space despite the lack of music. He smelled like fruity liquor and expensive cologne, Dean noted unwillingly.  
  
"I'll pass, thanks," Dean forced himself to take a step back, though he couldn't keep his gaze from drifting to the infuriating man's shiny lower lip, "Y'wanna explain why you've got Victor digging the hole?"  
  
"Ah ha," Castiel swung a hand excitedly, sloshing vodka cranberry on the floor, "They come on land y'know, and they're b-brazen," He hiccoughed slightly, "Plus they're attracted to loud noises and... warm bodies..."  
  
Dean tried to ignore the way Castiel's gaze raked over him, making him feel hot and exposed, "Listen to me, _Cas,_ the only reason you are still here is because you've got a helicopter and all your other cute little toys-"  
  
"And you like me." Cas added, cheekily.  
  
"I do _not_ like you," Dean lied, folding his arms stubbornly.  
  
"Deep down, Sheriff, you are starting to like me," Cas repeated, blue eyes wide and sincere, "I know I'm growing fond of _you."_  
  
That caught Dean off-guard, a sudden spike of hope making him stumble, "You- You're a whacko."  
  
"You know Sheriff, I like to know what makes people tick," Cas said, his voice low, "I think I'm starting to get a good feel of you... Dean."  
  
Cas waved cheerfully as Dean beat a hasty retreat out of the overly warm tent, his heart pounding inexplicably fast. The array of lights suddenly dimmed, leaving Dean standing alone in the dark, wishing he had accepted that damned drink.


	5. Chapter 5

     Dean jolted awake, lurching upright as massive jaws clamped shut on his leg - biting back a startled grunt of fear, Dean realized that he was still in his tent and his legs were perfectly intact. Rubbing a trembling hand over his face, Dean tried to calm his pounding heart - the dream had felt so _real._ This whole situation was messing with his head... And now he had to pee. Great. Suddenly Dean felt himself sympathizing with Hannah's desire for a toilet. If _he_ hated the idea of having to take a piss in the woods in the dark when that - _thing_ \- might be out there; then how much worse would it be to have to drop trow and squat in the bushes? He felt rather guilty now for giving her a hard time.  
  
Dean pulled on his boots and his gun belt then exited the tent as quietly as he could manage, creeping into the foliage farthest from the water. He stepped carefully, testing with his toe before setting his weight down - the last thing he needed was to be rescued from one of Cas' stupid crocodile traps. _That_ would be completely humiliating... Finally he unzipped, relieving his full bladder with an unbidden groan. Steam rose from the cool earth and Dean suddenly recalled Cas' _"warm bodies"_ comment and felt another odd flush rise in his cheeks. What was going on with him? He was not into the crazy crocodile guy... Was he?  
  
_*Snap*  
_    
Dean yanked his pants up and drew his colt, aiming toward the noise. Dean edged forward; waistband clutched in one hand, gun in the other... He crept slowly toward a thick patch of shrubs, following the faint rustle of movement. Reaching out cautiously, heart pounding heavily against his ribs, Dean tugged the branch aside.  
  
"AHHH!" Cas screamed from his hiding place as the faint light of the tents washed over him, "Jesus Christ!"  
  
"WHOA!" Dean swung his gun away quickly, hand flying back to secure his pants as he realized Cas was crouched at waist height, " _What the hell are you_ _doing_ _out here?"_  
  
"What the hell are _you doing?_ " Cas retorted, eyes dropping to Dean's unfastened trousers.  
  
"I had to take a leak!" Dean hissed, cheeks hot, "I could have shot you!"  
  
"I'm laying a spring trap!" Cas snapped, standing up face-to-face with the startled Sheriff, "I keep telling you they can come on land!"  
  
"So you're crawling around in the dark, in the middle of the night?" Dean yelled, concern for the oddball scientist making him irrationally angry, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"  
  
"Hey, this could end up saving your life Sheriff," Cas gestured at the rope on the ground, "Which you ought to appreciate, 'cause the longer you live the more sex you'll get to have with your right fist!"  
  
"Oh I'm sure you're quite the boy scout, crocodile boy, but maybe its time to retire you to the loony bin!" Dean growled, stepping into Cas' face aggressively, trying not to notice how close they were in height... they were just inches apart when Sam appeared, lantern raised high in the air.  
  
"Dean? What the hell is going on out here?" His brother grumbled, followed closely by Hannah who was wearing the type of two piece pajama sets that Dean thought only existed in movies.  
  
"Professor Cyr, why are you out here this late?" Hannah demanded, pale as a sheet in the flat light.  
  
"He scared the shit out of me," Dean began, annoyed by the unexpected audience, "He's out here crawling around-!"  
  
"This maniac takes a gun with him to pee!" Cas announced loudly, as ever more spectators arrived, several chuckling behind their fists.  
  
"Okay, everyone just needs to calm down and head back to their tents.." Sam spoke up, shooting Hannah an annoyed glance as she fought back a smirk.  
  
"He's waving his little wang around, he's scaring the hell out of me!" the doctor accused, his voice still raised.  
  
Dean raised his hefty silver colt threateningly, "How big is _this?"  
  
_ "Alright, alright, that's enough!" Sam bellowed, stepping between the bristling pair, "Dean, put your gun away - and zip up your damn pants!" Dean scowled but obeyed, as his brother continued, "And you - I'll say this  _once,_ Cas: Fancy equipment aside - which we appreciate - if you interfere again, you're gone." _  
_  
"He's the one interfering!" Cas protested childishly. "I was minding my business when Sheriff Whiz came along!"  
  
"This is an official investigation," Dean growled for what felt like the hundredth time, "I don't care how many degrees, or how much money you have, _Professor,_ you are completely mental!"  
  
With a final glare at everyone, Dean stormed off past the blinding lamplight, determined to cool off before he returned to his tent. Unfortunately, he forgot to take care where he was going and the next moment his foot was plunging through a flimsy screen of branches and he was crashing into the shallow pit with an undignified shriek.  
  
  
  
  
                                                                                              ********************************************  
  
  
  
Morning brought bright sunlight and cooled tempers. Dean was steering the largest speed boat that Maine's Fish & Game department owned while Sam and Cas pulled on their scuba equipment, the tight black wetsuit highlighting Cas' lean frame. Dean forced himself not to look as he eased off the throttle carefully, slowing to a trolling pace. Hannah was clutching a metallic pod attached to a cable; which housed the recording disc of juvenile crocodile distress calls.  
  
"We can expect a quick response, if it is a crocodile," She told the other passengers at large, "Adult crocs will move on distressed hatchlings."  
  
"Again - and I don't mean to be annoying with my questions," Dean directed his inquiry toward his brother, who refused to be talked out of this suicidal venture, "but if it is a crocodile - which I doubt it is - and they do charge these hatchling sounds, then why would _you_ want to be in the water at the time?" Dean shot an angry glance at Cas, "With you, it makes sense."  
  
"Well you see, Sheriff," Castiel's voice came out somewhat nasal due to the mask, "they don't generally attack underwater."  
  
"Walt was killed underwater," Dean reminded him, without heat.  
  
"True," the socially awkward scientist agreed carefully, "They don't see well underwater, they have these nictitating lenses on their eyelids-"  
  
"Dean, stop here," Deputy Gordon Walker called from up front, where he was running radar.  
  
"-so if you dive underwater," Castiel disregarded the interruption entirely, "he probably won't be able to see us."  
  
"I hate to interrupt," Sam cut in, looking completely dorky strapped into his too-small scuba suit, "but don't we have work to do here?"  
  
"Shuttup Sam, we can talk if we want to." Dean sniped, sneaking another glance at Cas' wetsuit clad shoulders.  
  
Cas looked surprised but pleased by the sheriff's reply, a slow smile unfurling as he looked up at Dean, "Yeah, we can talk if we want to."  
  
"Would you mind putting down the anchor?" Sam sighed, done trying to figure his brother and the newcomer's weird dynamic, "Hannah, don't turn that thing on until we're down there, got it?"  
  
"Got it," Hannah nodded, expression tense, clearly concerned but unwilling to voice her fears, "Just.. Good luck."  
  
Sam's reassuring wink was barely noticeable as he pulled his goggles into place and rolled backward into the water without further ado.  
  
"I brought a pork chop for luck," Dean elbowed Cas, "Maybe you can hang it around your neck, Professor."  
  
"That's sweet, Sheriff," Cas huffed, corner of his mouth tugging up in a faint smile, "Maybe later you can chew the bark off my big fat log."  
  
Castiel bit down on his mouthpiece and tumbled back with a splash. Dean stared at the rippling water where the other man had vanished, feeling Hannah's eyes on him. He realized that the banter between himself and the eccentric mythology professor had strayed into the realm of flirtation. Hoping to save face, Dean leaned back and cleared his throat.  
  
"Was that, like, a homosexual remark?" He tried to sound blase as he asked, even though he was hoping for some insight into Cas' murky sexuality.  
  
"Don't ask me... _Sheriff."_ Hannah was feeding the sound machine into the water, its little chirping noises muffled as it hit the water.  
  
Dean winced at the emphasis she laid on the word, clearly she had noticed Castiel's tendency to refer to him by his official title, "Yeah, well... Could just be mental. I hear if a crazy person is rich enough, they just call him eccentric."  
  
"He's not mental," Hannah answered, distractedly, "He's been in the water with crocs all over the world; he's never even been nipped."  
  
"So that's why he's so cocky?" Dean snorted, "Cause he hasn't been eaten yet?"  
  
"I don't know..." Hannah looked uncomfortable now, "He sees something in their eyes - Eyes of a Dragon - he thinks they're... Godly."  
  
Dean didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything; instead waiting anxiously for any sign of his returning brother. Five minutes stretched into ten... Then twenty. Dean's discomfort levels rose as each second ticked by; fear for his brother and for Castiel making him twitch impatiently. Gordon appeared to be dozing in the front of the boat, mornings had really never been his thing. Dean shook his head as the deputy's head slipped off his palm and he jerked awake with a snuffle.  
  
"So much for crocodiles.." Dean muttered darkly, hoping if he denied it hard enough he could make it not true.  
  
"Its probably on land," Hannah agreed, squinting at the distant shoreline.  
  
"Yeah," Dean snorted, "Right."  
  
The boat wobbled suddenly, shaking Gordon awake for a second time, "...what was that?"  
  
"I don't kno-" Dean answered, raising his rifle preemptively just as the entire boat jerked violently under his feet and Hannah, seated on the edge of the boat toppled backwards into the water with a cry of surprise. The boat was hauled rapidly toward the north shore, anchor line pulled taut, throwing up a spray of water. Dean hauled on the pull start, firing up the boat with a scream of the inboard motor and flung it into gear, fighting the massive unseen force that was dragging them away. Hannah was floundering desperately in the water, too-large life jacket rucked up around her ears as she kicked out toward the fleeing boat.  
  
"Gord, cut it! Cut the line!" Dean shouted, leaning into the accelerator with all his might, "Untie it!"  
  
"I'm trying!!" Gordon grunted back, fingers digging uselessly at the tough nylon knot.   
  
Before Gordon could reach the emergency hatchet, the boat suddenly stopped; eerie calm falling around them yet again. The deputy looked around nervously as Dean pinned the gas, barreling straight toward the awkwardly floating paleontologist.  
  
"Hurry! Hurry up!" Hannah gasped breathlessly, trying to hold her legs as still as possible so as not to attract the monster's attention, "Dean.. Hurry, please."  
  
"I'm coming, its okay, I got ya!" Dean yelled over the engine, "Gord, get her up!"  
  
"Hurry, hurry, hurry," Hannah was chanting, begging as Gord leaned over the side to haul her in, his hands slipping on her wet skin.  
  
"I'm trying, ma'am! Oh shit!" Gord's jaw went slack for a moment as his gazed into the murky water beneath Hannah, "My God, its right under you!"  
  
"GET HER UP!" Dean bellowed, dashing forward to grasp the doctor's pale arm, dragging her roughly from the water as the dark shape below rose rapidly toward Hannah's thrashing, panicked form.   
  
Hannah, Gordon and Dean all toppled into the boat in a heap of flailing limbs just as a dark head popped out of the water, "Dean?"   
  
"Sam?" Dean scrambled upright at the sound of his brother's voice, "Get up here, you dumbass!"   
  
Hannah helped pull Sam aboard, face shining with relief, "Sam, did you see it? Where's Cas?"  
  
"I dunno, we got separated." Sam tugged off his flippers, frowning at Hannah's saturated clothes, "We headed different directions... What happened to you?"  
  
"There's some bubbles rising over there, Sheriff," Gordon pointed, spotting the fizzling patch of water not fifty yards away, "Could be him."  
  
Dean steered the craft toward the disturbed water, praying that Cas was alright. He nearly shouted in relief as the millionaire's head emerged, excitement clear on his face, despite the goggles and breathing apparatus. Cas spit the mouthpiece out as the boat drew up next to him.  
  
"What happened?" he demanded, of no one in particular, sensing the grim mood as he was pulled aboard, "Did you see him?"  
  
"No, but he took us all for a bit of a ride," Dean responded, hand still gripping Castiel's damp shoulder, "Gordon, pull up that speaker, let's got the hell outta here."  
  
"You got it boss.." Gordon reeled up the chirping silver box quickly, frowning as he searched for the 'off' switch on the expensive speaker. Just as the young man clicked the audio off, there was an explosion of water beneath his face and a huge shape burst out of the lake. Hannah screamed. Dean snatched his rifle and rushed forward as Gordon began to topple forward into the water. Sam and Cas caught the deputy by the legs, pulling him back into the boat.   
  
Hannah shrieked again.   
  
Deputy Sheriff Gordon Walker was dead. His head had been bitten clean off.


	6. Chapter 6

"No, I didn't see what did it," Dean admitted as the blue-uniformed woman scribbled in her notebook, "It happened too suddenly."  
  
"Didn't get caught in the outboard?" She asked, bored.  
  
"No." Dean felt a flare of anger cut through the numbness that had settled over him, "No, it wasn't the outboard."  
  
Dean just wanted to sit down. He wanted to run away, never see this lake again. He wanted to charge ahead, to dole out vengeance on whatever had killed _two_ of his friends. He wanted to do anything other than listen to these condescending interview questions. Hannah was standing nearby; staring blankly ahead, expression haunted. Sam approached her carefully, hot thermos in hand.  
  
"You okay?" he asked gently, concern radiating on his face. Hannah blinked back tears, but didn't respond, "...Hannah?"  
  
"Yeah.." she murmured, dazedly, "yeah, fine..."  
  
"No one saw anything." Sam sighed, gazing through the trees at the glassy sparkling lake.  
  
"No." Hannah acknowledged numbly.  
  
"U.S Wildlife is on their way." Sam commented, unsure how to snap her out of the shocked state she had been in since witnessing Gordon's death.  
  
"That- that's probably good..." She nodded slowly, face slightly less pale, "So.. so what now?"  
  
"Well the police want to keep this quiet," Sam nodded toward the blue-clad officers milling around, "They don't want the press to get wind, lake monster an' all, so we're just supposed to-"  
  
"Sit tight, yeah." Hannah nodded again, a flicker of irritation animating her expression for the first time. "They told me."  
  
"So, are you okay?" Sam asked again, offering the silver canister of life-sustaining caffeine.  
  
She loosed a faintly manic laugh, "Oh, fine. I'm good, yeah." She dumped steaming coffee into the thermos lid with shaky hands, "Just fine.."  
  
  
  
                                                                                            *************************************  
  
  
  
Finally free of the mind-numbing statement-taking process, Dean wandered away from the crowded campsite, with no set destination in mind. For the second time in under a week, he had to watch one of his colleagues get zipped into a black canvas bag, with the finality of death hanging in the air. Dean moved through trees, barely aware of his surroundings, just moving for the sake of it. As if by magic, Castiel appeared in front of the grief-stricken sheriff.  
  
"I'm very sorry, for your deputy," Cas whispered earnestly, "He was- he was a good man?"  
  
Dean snorted softly, the platitude came across as a question, more than a statement, "Yep."  
  
As responses went, it felt inadequate in Dean's ears. But his reeling mind could think of nothing better to say, so he left it at that. Cas shuffled uncomfortably, looking lost for words. _That's a first_ , Dean thought, cruelly.  
  
"Whenever someone dies," Cas tried again, his voice soft and kind, "I always think.. its such a waste that I didn't know them any better.."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry for _your_ loss, Cas." Dean muttered, hearing the harsh words escape before he could stop them. _Why are you such an asshole?_ Dean mentally kicked himself as Castiel's eyes shone with hurt.  
  
"That's not really what I meant." He said quietly, looking down.  
  
"I kn- I'm sorry.." Dean released a pent-up breath, all the bitterness heaving out of him, "His head was just... bitten off."  
  
Cas stepped a little closer, blue eyes wide and sincere, "Y'know, I used to have this recurring nightmare that I was headless."  
  
Dean frowned, wondering what the doctor's point was, surprised to see Cas looking rather too enthusiastic as he recited his tale.  
  
"I'd be down on the ground, looking up at my body - no head, just bumping into everything," Dean pursed his lips, willing himself not to laugh at the ridiculous mental image, "And my parents, they wouldn't let me in the house..." Cas frowned, remembering, "Cause they had just bought all these new lamps and they didn't want me to break anything, the fuckers." the bitter note in Cas' voice spoke of a genuine, deep-seated anger, "Then the neighborhood bullies, they found my head and they'd start a soccer game." Cas met Dean's shocked gaze, "And as I was being kicked around, I'd just feel really grateful that I was allowed to be in the game."  
  
Castiel finally finished his lengthy diatribe, his face innocently happy to have someone to share with. Dean stared, his brain reeling, torn between hilarity and horror. How was he supposed to process this information?  
  
"So... so what are your thoughts?" Cas asked, uncertainly.  
  
"Cas." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, "I'm sure you are a fine person - in your own _mental_ way - but I think it would be best if you and I didn't speak."  
  
Dean turned on his heel, ignoring Castiel's giant sad blue eyes, and stormed off on a random tangent. He made it exactly three whole steps when he felt a snap underfoot and then his world was yanked out from beneath him. Dean heard himself yelp loudly. He knew what was happening, but he could do nothing to stop the inevitable as he was hauled upside-down by his ankle, the rope digging painfully into his flesh. Dean swayed nauseatingly side-to-side, rope creaking as he spun to face Castiel. The scientist was wide-eyed with shock, fear and just a hint of laughter.  
  
Sam and Hannah sprinted over, the fear in their eyes giving way to surprise as they took in the sight of Dean's furious inverted face. They turned, as one, to Cas; waiting expectantly.  
  
"I could cut him down," Cas admitted guiltily, "But there's this odd look of mayhem on his upside down face..."  
  
"Dean," Hannah leaned down to address the sheriff, soothingly, "Are you alright?"  
  
Dean felt a mad cackle threatening to escape, "Could you cut me down? Please."  
  
"Do you promise that you won't attempt to injure me?" Cas piped up, from his hiding place behind Sam's broad back.  
  
"I have no interest in ever _looking_ at you again, Castiel." Dean lied, as calmly as he could from his predicament.  
  
Cas peered around Sam, "Okay.." he cut the securing line with a sleek folding knife, "Just - just pull him down, its a counterweight."  
  
Sam pulled Dean gently to the forest floor as Hannah quickly released the skillful slip knot from his ankle. Dean got to his feet slowly, fist closing around a fallen branch as he stood up.  
  
"If I'd remembered the trap was there, I never would have let you walk that way, Sheriff." Cas babbled nervously as Dean's angry gaze zeroed in on him.  
  
"Okay Dean," Sam brushed spruce needles off Dean's uniform bracingly, "Now, you promised not to hurt him so-"  
  
" _I lied!"_ Dean rasped, darting forward, makeshift weapon raised as Castiel let out a little whimper of terror and scrambled away, dodging around trees like a prancing Christmas elf. Dean charged forward, branch swinging uselessly as Castiel raced through the trees.  
  
"Hey, hold up!" Sam ordered, giving chase, "C'mon guys, its over! Dean, just let it go - it was an accident!"  
  
Cas skidded to a halt on the muddy bank, whirling around to see Dean closing in, face dark with rage. Just as the sodden branch swung down, Sam leaped between the pair, catching the primitive weapon in his giant sasquatch-hand and tearing it out of his brother's fist.  
  
"Knock it off, Dean!" Sam snapped, hurling the stick aside, "Both of you, get a grip!"  
  
Before either of the other men could shout in their defense there was a thunderous crash and Hannah threw herself at Sam, knocking him aside, "LOOK OUT!"  
  
There was a flurry of gold-brown fur, as the grizzly bear hurtled out of the forest, right into the midst of the shocked group. Dean scrabbled for his gun, finding his holster empty just as Castiel dove out of the bear's kill range; rolling in the muddy, churned earth by the lake. The bear drew itself up, displaying its terrifying height and roared out a challenge, its mouth gaping wide as the deafening snarl echoed across the lake. Dean felt an odd desire to shout: _I told you so,_ despite the clear danger they were in. It was petty but Dean felt certain that this must be the mysterious killer beast they were hunting - there was no damned crocodile afte-  
  
_*WHOOSH*_  
  
The slick surface ruptured in a burst of glittering droplets and a massive, gleaming beast erupted out of the lake. Lightning-fast, the leviathan caught the bear's hind leg in its cavernous jaws, yanking the huge mammal off its feet effortlessly. The bear yowled in terror, paws tearing at the mud. It twisted back toward its attacker, swiping pointlessly at the glossy grey-green armored hide. One final whimper of sheer panic and suddenly, both beasts vanished into the lake, leaving behind shocked silence.  
  
"Okay," Dean's shaky voice reverberated in the suffocating stillness, "I admit it." He looked Cas dead in the eye, "Its a crocodile."  
  



	7. Chapter 7

 

 

> Night had fallen over the camp but sleep was eluding the companions. Hannah sat in a wobbly camp chair, surrounded by anxious faces watching closely as she clicked through the saved images on her laptop, finally settling on a huge, nearly black specimen, "This was it, right? It had oval scales?"  
>    
>  "I wasn't looking at his _scales_ , I was a little distracted by his _teeth_ ," Dean grumbled, straightening up with a groan. His back was aching - the past week had been hell on his body. He could really use a hot shower and a massage. Once again, Hannah's hotel idea sounded very appealing.  
>    
>  "He's an Indo-Pacific," Hannah continued, ignoring Dean's input entirely, "He's an Asian crocodile."  
>    
>  "So why would he come _here_ _?"_ Dean argued, annoyed at being dismissed, "Its impossible!"  
>    
>  Sam looked equally perplexed, "Asia? How would he get here?"  
>    
>  "Obviously some asshole in Hong Kong flushed him down a toilet," Cas snarked, "He was at least thirty feet, had to be."  
>    
>  "Well, maybe now somebody's glad I brought my big gun." Dean waggled his eyebrows cockily as three pairs of eyes turned on him, two of them scandalized.  
>    
>  "Oh so you're just gonna blow him away now?" Cas accused, real anger darkening his face as he confronted the taller man, "With your cannon?"  
>    
>  "Damn right, I am!" Dean countered, not backing down, "Why shouldn't I?"  
>    
>  "Well, he _IS_ a miracle of nature," Cas snapped, "But if you're scared-"  
>    
>  "You're the miracle of nature!" Dean snarled into Castiel's face, the dissected corpses of Walt and Gordon flashing through his mind's eye, fueling his rage.  
>    
>  "Guys, guys!" Sam stepped in yet again, prying the two apart, "We're not doing anything about it tonight anyway, so just cool it."  
>    
>  "I've just never heard of a crocodile crossing an ocean," Dean grumbled rebelliously.  
>    
>  "Well they tend to conceal that information inside of books," Cas goaded, still bristling over the threat to the crocodile.  
>    
>  "Alright, that's it _buddy_ _!"_ Dean kicked a folding chair aside angrily and grabbed a fistful of the scientist's baggy t-shirt, "You think you're real fuckin' clever-"  
>    
>  "Dean, stop. Just ignore him." Hannah pleaded as Sam tried to pull Cas out of danger.  
>    
>  "No. No, let him go!" Cas challenged, side-stepping Sam and facing off with the sheriff, "I must warn you Sheriff, the thing about having rich parents is that they had the luxury of ditching me at Karate class four nights a week, so I _am_ a brown belt!"  
>    
>  Dean laughed humorlessly as Cas arranged his hands in a complicated fighting stance, "You've got to be joking.."  
>    
>  "Try me," the professor prodded, "Go on, take your best shot, _Sherif-Oomf!"_  
>    
>  Dean's fist slammed into Castiel's unprotected nose mid-sentence, sending him toppling backwards over a stump.  
>    
>  "Jesus Dean, really?!" Sam jumped between them as all the wind went out of Dean's sails. That hadn't been nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped.  
>    
>  "He said he knew karate." Dean shrugged defensively.  
>    
>   Sam sighed, "You hit him."  
>    
>  "I did, yeah." Dean admitted, slightly ashamed as he offered a hand to the prone professor, "Here. Let me, uh, help you up.."  
>    
>  Cas glared up, righteous indignation written all over his face, "You're supposed to say 'Go' in karate!" he wobbled upright, clutching his injured nose, "You didn't say 'Go'!"  
>    
>  Sam ground the heel of his hand into his forehead, exasperated, "Just go cool off you guys, no more fighting." He gave Dean an extra stern glare, "Seriously dude, we can't afford a lawsuit!"  
>    
>  "He never answers my questions," Dean complained, following Cas toward his circus tent, "How come you never answer my questions?"  
>    
>  "You punched me in the face!" Cas countered, blood now dripping down to his upper lip.  
>    
>  Dean scoffed, "I fell in a hole! You hung me up a tree!"  
>    
>  Cas waved him off, "I bow, you bow, someone says 'Go', that's how you do it!"  
>    
>  "I'll tell you 'Go' alright! 'Go fuck yourself' is more like it.."  
>    
>  They continued grumbling back and forth until they disappeared behind a tent flap. Sam and Hannah exchanged a weary glance, laughing tiredly at the absurdity of it all.  
>    
>  "They're like children." Sam groaned, exhausted and a little embarrassed by his brother's antics - seriously, what was going on with him? He'd been acting weird ever since Cas stepped off that helicopter.  
>    
>  Hannah shook her head, laughing, "Yeah, maybe we shouldn't leave them unsupervis- Oh. Sam!"  
>    
>  "What?"  
>    
>  "You're bleeding!" she gasped, tugging his sleeve to examine his left shoulder, "Oh, that's not so bad.."  
>    
>  "I'm fine, s'no big deal," Sam assured her, "Must've happened when you tackled me."  
>    
>  "Saved your ass, you mean?" Hannah teased, "I can take care of that for you, c'mon, I've got a first aid kit in my tent."  
>    
>  "Uh.." Sam hesitated briefly, "Yeah. Okay, sure."  
>    
>    
>                                                                                                  *********************************  
>    
>    
>  In Castiel's tent, illuminated by the bluish glow of the professor's equipment, Dean found himself crowded unnervingly close to the other man. They were still bickering but their words were no longer openly hostile. Dean leaned in to examine the monolithic reptile on the screen, skimming the brief description next to the video playing onscreen.
> 
> "Lolong, largest crocodile captured alive... 20 feet long and over 2000 pounds?" Dean tried to remember how long the beast that he had seen was, but the memory was too jumbled, "You're the big expert, is ours some kinds of... mutant or something?"
> 
> "No," Cas said, sounding slightly nasal around the tissues crammed in his nostrils to absorb the blood, "He's not a freak Sheriff, he's an apex predator with no rivals in this environment. He has full run of this lake."
> 
> "But shouldn't he be fully grown by now?"
> 
> "Crocodiles keep growing until they die, Sheriff," Cas tugged the wadded tissues out of his nose, frowning at the blood, "I can't be certain yet, but I think ours is a 25 footer. Maybe longer." 
> 
> "And you think we can catch it  _alive?_ " Dean goggled at the other man, shocked by his blasé attitude, "How? How would we ever do something like that?" 
> 
> "Your eyes are very lovely in this light, Sheriff."
> 
> "I--what?" Dean's face flamed in the low light, "What is wrong with you? You're insane!"
> 
> But he didn't storm out. He didn't pull away. He just remained there, caught in that electric blue gaze, tongue slipping out to wet his dry lips. Cas's nose was still slightly swollen but it did nothing to diminish his boyish charm. Dean caught himself reaching toward the other man, his fingertips brushing gently over the injured area, skimming over tanned skin until they reached coarse facial hair. 
> 
> The abrupt change in texture jarred Dean back to his senses and he shot to his feet, toppling his chair, "I-I should go, we should go to bed -sleep- I mean, you should and-and I should, not together I mean, just... yeah." 
> 
> Cas watched Dean stumble backwards, expression mild, "Sweet dreams, Sheriff." 


End file.
